adoring vigilantes

Its brutal — not at all unkind. More... primal. Less hair stroking and nuzzling and less love making and more biting and grabbing and more fucking. More sinking his teeth into your flesh like he's trying to consume you.

He manhandles you when he gets like this; tired from whatever Superman bullshit he's faced in the hot August air in Metropolis. He's all caloused hands and unrestrained when he jolts you towards the bedroom. Large hand guiding you by the base of your neck to the bed.

It's a display of restrain and strength bleeding together into something you can only recognize under the weight of him and the way he gently coaxes you onto your hands and knees.

The cotton comforter is cool against your heated knees and warm hands, teasing contrast to the warmth of his hand behind your head, hair wound around his large fist.

Those first moments when he fills you are always your favorite. Where his corded girth strokes your walls and his balls pressed up against your sopping folds and his weight smothering you just sends heat straight to your clit.

You love it when he let's you bask in it for those first few moments that you're completely full of him.

He gingerly lays himself onto you. Back to your chest and cock weighing heavily against your heat. And the stretch is so delicious and he's so fucking deep you swear you can taste it.

clark likes to look up at you and watch every little tell and twitch on your face, ears perked (even though they don't have to be) to listen to every little sound and moan you let out while his head's between your thighs.

you can feel him smile against you when he pleases you, only focused on making you happy, making you feel good. he feels proud when you smile down at him and tug at his hair, he feels gratified when your back arches and you let out a loud moan.

but he can't help but let his eyes close at the pleasure he feels when your thighs squeeze around his head deliciously and his eyes roll as he groans against your heat while you reach your climax.

he keeps licking you all through your high, hands holding you close, fingertips digging into your thighs firmly as he watches you roll into the next orgasm, and the next. only pulling away with a much too adorable smile when you start to push him away, overwhelmed by the buzz of intense pleasure. not for long though, just to let you breathe for a second before he gets right back to it.

he loves to please you, but yeah, deep down he does it for himself too, just a little.

MDNI 18+

— clark kent talking you through it

cw: vaginal sex, size difference, soft dom clark

“i know baby, i know,” his words soft has his large hands gripped onto your waist, gently squeezing the soft flesh as tears welled up in your eyes. “but you’re doing so well,” he cooed, “making me so proud.”

your sniffles filled the room paired with a small pathetic whine that left your lips when you sank an inch deeper, your small cunt barely accomodating his size. “just one more yeah? biiig stretch.”

it’s been a good few minutes of this, clark whispering words of reassurance whilst wiping the tears from your eyes.

once you finally settled down his full length, a groan escaped his mouth. “feel so damn good,” his head tilting against the headboard. “clark,” you whined as you adjusted slightly, your warm gummy walls clenching around his cock.

arousal dribbled down your inner thigh, making it glisten ever so slightly. “move,” your voice soft as you held onto his shoulders, your hands looking comically small in comparison to his large fame.

clark gently bounced you, his hands dropped down to your waist as he caressed the skin there. “you look so pretty baby,” he sighed as he tried his best to not blow it, but the idea of filling you up was too good to not.

your moans filled the room as your body trembled, his thrusts making you bounce harshly as you gripped him tightly, tears streaming down your face as you started to feel a little light headed from the pleasure.

You’d started the night cocky. Literally. Because after months of hearing Clark’s quiet bragging about “holding back” and “taking it easy” with you, you’d decided tonight was the night you proved he wasn’t that much better than a human man.

Mistake number one.

“Four rounds,” you’d panted into his neck after the third, riding the adrenaline high of thinking you’d actually worn him down. “Bet you can’t go five.”

Mistake number two.

Now it’s hours later. Your skin is slick, your hair is a disaster, and your voice is hoarse from begging and swearing and—God—crying out his name so many times you’re pretty sure the neighbors think you’re filming a porn.

He’s not even sweating. In fact, he’s grinning. Grinning. Like the smugest farm boy in the galaxy, holding you in place with one arm around your lower back while the other hand braces his weight over you.

“One more, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice all honey and sin. “You can take one more.”

“Clark—” Your voice cracks, half pleading half pleading him to continue. “You—” You cut yourself off to gasp when his hips roll. “You—smug—overpowered—alien—”

“Mhm,” he hums, utterly unbothered, like you’re not writhing beneath him. “And you love it.”

“Shut up,” you groan.

“I will,” he says sweetly, “after one more.”

Mistake number three: You don’t say no.

cw: Explicit sexual content. Raw fucking, big cock worship. Rough handling. 

The worst part about Superman was his huge fucking cock. Okay, fine, it was also the best part about him. 

“Clark,” you breathed, nails scraping his shoulders, “you’re too much.”

He kissed down your throat, leaving a trail of small love bites. “I haven’t even started yet, sweetheart.”

You whined, tilting your head back as his hands—those ridiculously big hands—slid down to your hips, holding you in place like you weighed nothing. Which, to him, you probably didn’t. “Not fair,” you gasped when he thrust in just enough for you to feel the stretch, then pulled back with maddening slowness. “You’re literally Superman. You can fly but you can’t just—”

He smirked, cutting you off by burying himself to the hilt in one smooth, deep stroke that knocked the air out of you. “Can’t what?” he murmured, voice low and cocky.

Your answer came out as a strangled moan, your fingers curling tighter around him. The smug glint in his eyes told you he’d heard every desperate sound.

“God, you’re cockdrunk already,” he teased, brushing his lips against your ear. “I could fuck you in the sky right now and you’d still beg for more.”

“Don’t—” you gasped when he rolled his hips just right, “—say things like that unless you mean it.”

“Oh, I mean it.” Then he set a pace that was—well, unfair. Long, deep strokes that made your eyes roll back, his grip on your hips keeping you right where he wanted you. Every thrust knocked another useless thought out of your head until the only thing you could manage was clutching at his biceps and moaning his name.

“Clark—oh my—” You broke off with a sharp gasp when he shifted his angle, hitting that spot so perfectly you almost forgot your own name.

“Hmm?” He had the audacity to sound innocent, his lips dragging lazy kisses along your jaw. “You were saying something?”

“Yeah—fuck— I was saying you’re… impossible.” Your voice cracked halfway through, your body clenching around him like it was trying to keep him inside forever.

He chuckled, deep and warm, but there was something smug under it. “Sweetheart, you’re not even talking in full sentences anymore.”

“Shut up,” you whined, burying your face against his shoulder—though that just made you more aware of how broad and unmovable he was. 

His pace picked up, “Can’t shut up,” he murmured against your ear, “not when you look like this for me.” 

You shivered, clinging to him tighter. “You’re—ugh—such a showoff.”

“I’m Superman,” he grinned, one hand sliding down your back to grab your ass, pulling you flush against him. “Showing off is kind of my thing.”

Another perfectly timed thrust made your breath hitch so loud he laughed. “Cockdrunk,” he said again, savoring the word like it tasted good on his tongue. “I could keep you like this all night… maybe all week. You wouldn’t survive.”

You tilted your head enough to glare at him, though it was ruined by the blissed-out expression on your face. “Try me.”